


House Cat

by iselsis



Series: Accidental Kitten Acquisition [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon Hardware Rules: Nail it or Screw It, Child Neglect, Child Stealing, Gen, Good Parent Selina Kyle, Impulse Adoption, Jack and Janet Drake's A+ Parenting, Parent Selina Kyle, Platonic Cuddling, Selina Kyle is Catwoman, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis
Summary: Just over a year after finding and adopting the stray Jason she and Bruce found stealing the tires off the Batmobile, Selina breaks into the supposedly empty Drake residence, only to be found by their eight-year-old.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Selina Kyle
Series: Accidental Kitten Acquisition [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024870
Comments: 37
Kudos: 564





	House Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Because we have to save Tim too.
> 
> Also, the Drakes and the Waynes weren't neighbors until after Jack Drake woke up from his coma, so they're not next door neighbors yet in this fic. I'm only _sort of_ following the canon with him, though, because he's figured out who everyone is a year early.
> 
> Delayed because of turkey!Jason Todd and part three, but here you go!

Nearly two weeks after being stolen, Jason had gotten sick. It had just been the flu, but it had been pretty nasty, and Jason had been completely miserable for days. He’d refused to leave his bed, refused to eat anything since he knew he’d throw up, and refused to say a word. When Bruce had sat down on the bed beside him, he didn’t even struggle or flinch either like he normally did when Bruce touched him or got too close. 

Bruce had gathered their miserable little baby into his arms and read a pile of Dick’s old picture books aloud, starting with _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_. Jason had sat, stiff as a board against Bruce’s chest, right up until the Grinch’s puzzler gave up. Then, hesitantly, deliberately, Jason had gone limp and snuggled against Bruce’s chest. It had been the first time Jason had ever shown a sign of truly trusting Bruce. Bruce had hugged him tight and kept reading.

Ever since, _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ had been by _far_ Jason’s favorite book, and he’d forced at least two people in the manor read it to him every day for nearly a year since. He could read fine by himself, but he was so touch starved and greedily snatched up any excuse he could get for physical contact with all of them.

Selina was also pretty sure that Jason saw himself in the main character. The Grinch was a sad thief with no family who found love and acceptance right around Christmas time, just like Jason had.

Selina, on the other hand, _hated_ the Grinch. 

Her own reformation had been more of a change of behavior than any sort of change of heart. She still had to fight the urge to steal the jewels off of the socialites at the galas that _she_ was co-hosting as Mrs. Wayne, and sometimes she’d lie awake planning extremely unlikely heists just for old time’s sake as a form of stress relief. 

She had her boys to think about, though. Jason already had a somewhat compromised moral compass—like a cup with a crack in it that hasn’t _actually_ started leaking yet, but might soon if handled wrong—from his early childhood and time on the streets, but he didn’t have her skills. Not to mention, he copied her every move, more like a duckling than a kitten sometimes. If she reinforced the idea that stealing was both acceptable and _invigorating_ , then he would eventually try to mimic her and would get caught and thrown in prison. She had to stay strong if she didn’t want to pay bail money or risk her son being put away for years.

And that was why she hated the Grinch so much. He made changes of heart look _easy_.

Sometimes, though, the world smiled down on her and she got an excuse to indulge in her comfort zone of total moral grayness.

Like when Batman needed to hunt down Two-Face again, but he also needed to get concrete evidence that the Drakes were part of an international smuggling ring and using their alleged business and archaeology trips to smuggle drugs, artifacts, and weapons into Gotham. 

Who better to find and steal that proof than the greatest thief in the world?

Selina parked her motorcycle in the driveway when she arrived at the Drake house just after midnight. The Drakes were out of the country, and were scheduled to be there until March. Seeing as it was two weeks until Christmas, she figured that she had some time to herself. The Drake boy—Tim or Tom, whatever his name was—had been a bit more trouble to pinpoint, but Bruce had found pictures of the boy with his grandparents at a somber looking birthday party uploaded to a social media platform only a week before, so he must have been staying with them. 

Breaking into the house was surprisingly easy for how rich the Drakes were, which was honestly a little disappointing. She’d just grappled up three stories and opened a skylight. The Drakes apparently didn’t have that paranoia that most criminals or rich people had, but then again, they spent less than a month in Gotham a year, so maybe they just weren’t concerned with guarding an empty house. 

She made quick work of the skylight and dropped silently to the ground ten feet below into a library. She didn’t _have_ to be quiet, since there was no one there, but it was a matter of professional etiquette. Besides, it was more fun that way.

Bruce had said that Selina was _supposed_ to find the documents they needed, which were hopefully in some office drawer and not a hidden safe in some random location in the house, right away, but she had months to find them, so she took her time wandering through the house and window shopping the Drakes’ collection of priceless artifacts.

They had good enough taste, she had to admit. Artifacts like these were out of her usual market—no cats—but they seemed like the type that Alfred liked. Maybe she should pick one up for him as his Christmas present, she wondered absently as she trailed her finger over the flawless finish of what was undoubtedly an _extremely_ valuable vase. It would look lovely in the library. 

Selina sighed and pulled her sticky fingers back to her hips. Alfred would probably prefer if she had to put more thought into it than impulse-stealing him a random knickknack that the Drake might have actually acquired legally. 

It was just so _hard_ to shop for Alfred, though, an annual grievance made worse by the fact that _last year_ , she’d given him that second grandkid he’d been pestering for as an early Christmas present. It was going to be pretty much impossible to top that.

Maybe she could get him a baby gate for the kitchen to keep Bruce from trying to “help” again. It was either that or a preemptive new stove and a few gallons of paint, all of which would have been convenient to have on hand the last time. Maybe a fire extinguisher, too.

Wait, no, Jason was already getting Alfred a Bruce-repelling spray bottle. Dam- _dang_ it, great minds thought a bit too much alike. 

Selina found the offices on the second floor. She started in what she assumed was Janet’s, judging by the clinical perfectionism of the room. Selina had only met the Drakes once, but she could tell just from that encounter for a few minutes at a gala that Janet was the brains of the pair. If there were going to be any incriminating documents, Selina was going to bet that they’d be in Janet’s care. 

She flipped on the light and started shuffling through the room. She started with the desk, pulling out all the drawers and shuffling through them, then searching the desk itself for secret panels or compartments. There was nothing.

Her nose twitched in annoyance. It was going to be a pain to track down a secret safe if the documents were hidden somewhere in the house, and even more of a pain if the Drakes had invested in a paper shredder.

Once she’d confirmed that the desk was empty, she started with the rest of the room. She pulled the books off the shelves—then very carefully set them aside, because Jason would never forgive her if he found out that she’d just thrown them aside _like a heathen_ —flipping through them to make sure that there was nothing inside and checking for safes in the wall behind them.

Janet’s office was clear, so she started in on Jack’s. 

Jack’s office, right beside his wife’s, was a little more personal. There were a few knickknacks, mostly from the Gotham Knights baseball team, but none of what she might expect from a parent. Bruce’s office at work and his study at home were both filled with artwork and paperweights made by Dick when he was younger and now Jason, and Selina had about a million cat-themed crafts from both her boys, all of which were proudly displayed wherever she could find the space for them. Maybe Tim was less creative than her boys, or maybe the Drakes just had an extremely decorated refrigerator or something.

Or maybe they were just sh- _crappy_ , she had to stop swearing so Alfred could get Jason to stop too—maybe they were just crappy parents. It wouldn’t surprise her at all. She hadn’t really liked the Drakes.

Selina was halfway through dumping Jack’s drawers when she realized that she wasn’t alone.

She snapped her head up and grabbed her whip, the drawer in her hands clattering to the ground.

Then she froze.

Oh, like the Grinch did she freeze.

Because there, in the doorframe, was a black haired, blue eyed little Cindy Lou Who staring at her with wide eyes, a slacked jaw, and a taser in his hand dangling at his side.

He took in a deep breath, and Selina thought that he was going to scream, but instead he covered his grin with his hand and made a high pitched squealing noise of utter delight.

“ _Catwoman_?” he shrieked.

Selina winced and lowered her hand from her whip. Should she cut her losses and run? The easiest way out would be past the kid, and he had a taser. She didn’t want to spook him into using it, and his loud cry hadn’t brought his parents running yet, so maybe there was a way to talk her way out of the situation. 

Dang- _DAMMIT, Bruce_ , he said that the house was going to be empty for months. _Months_ , and Selina had just gotten caught like a giant green furry with her hand on the Christmas tree.

The little boy took a half step forward, then quickly shuffled back. Not because he’d come to his senses and was about to run from what was _obviously_ a burglary; no, the kid was still grinning too hard for that to be the case. He was _starstruck_. I tried not to be flattered, because it was a serious complication, but he was a cute little kid. 

He thrust his taser into the waistband of his Batman—oh, the irony—pajama pants so fast she was worried he’d shock himself, then hurried forward, stopping about ten feet away with pure _joy_ plastered across his face. 

Talking him into helping her out might be easier than she’d expected.

“Are you Catwoman?” he gushed, his hand in excited little fists against his chest.

Selina nodded and forced a smile that she hoped didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Yeah, kitten. I’m Catwoman. And you’re Tim Drake, arencha?”

He was so _small_. He had to be what, eight? She was pretty sure that Bruce had said that he was eight. Granted, Selina did not know many kids other than her own, and they’d both been older than eight when she’d met them. She was pretty sure that Tim Drake was just itsy bitsy, though. He was so skinny too, but his cheeks still had that roundness of baby fat that looked so pinchable, and his eyes were so bright and sparkly, like diamonds, and his parents probably wouldn’t miss him if she just borrowed—

No. 

No stealing.

Maybe arranging playdates later, but no stealing other people’s kids.

He was pretty cute though.

Tim nodded vigorously. “You know my name?!”

It was a real smile that time. “Sure I do. You’re such a cool kid, of course I’ve heard about you.”

Tim made another high pitched shriek and covered his mouth. Selina barely stopped herself from flinching. There was no way his parents weren’t going to hear him and come to investigate. Heck, Selina investigated when her kids were too _quiet_ , let alone when they were making odd squealy noises long after bedtime.

“Are your mom and dad downstairs, Tim?” Selina asked politely, kneeling to be on his level.

Tim shook his head, smile undimmed. “No, they’re in Zimbabwe.”

Of course. Right there where they were supposed to be. They’d gotten that right, but not having been able to locate Tim Drake’s exact residence was going to really be their downfall in the plan. 

“What about your grandparents?” Maybe they’d gone deaf in their old age. That would be _very_ convenient. 

Tim smile drew into a confused frown. “Why would my grandparents be here?”

Selina tilted her head. “Then who lives here?”

“I do.” Tim said it very proudly, like it was a grand achievement, and Selina snorted a laugh despite herself. 

“I figured that out, kitten,” she chuckled, “but who lives with you?”

Tim’s broad grin came back and he clasped his hands behind his back like a Jason when he’d just gotten an A on his report card and couldn’t wait to tell them. He must have really like his babysitter or someth-

“I take care of myself, because I’m a big boy.”

“What.”

“Mom and Dad said that I’m old enough to take care of myself and the house while they’re gone, so I live her all by myself,” he elaborated. His smile faded slightly when she failed to react to what he obviously considered quite the achievement.

“Your parents are in _Zimbabwe_ ,” Selina said very carefully, her eyes narrowing, “and they left you all alone, in _Gotham_. For months.”

Note to cat, find the Drakes, _murder_ the Drakes, and then drag them to parenting classes. Maybe not in that order. Or maybe _in_ that order as a warning for any other shitty parents who thought that they would just pop off to _Africa_ and leave their tiny baby kitten all alone. Forget the drugs, that was enough to throw them in prison.

Tim’s frown deepened. “I’m not all alone. I go to school, and Mrs. Mac comes on Sundays and cleans everything and leaves me food in the fridge. I’m not _little_ -” He _was_ little “-so I can’t need to be a bother or I’ll take up space and no one will like me.”

“Take up space?” Selina snapped before her higher reasoning caught up with her burning anger. 

Tim flinched and bit his lip hard, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. Any trace of that expressive, happy little boy leeched out of him, and Selina flinched at a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry, kitten. I shouldn’t have talked like that. I’m sure you’re _really_ good at taking care of yourself, aren’t you?” she said softly.

Tim nodded, but he looked at his feet and hunched his shoulders to his ears.

Selina sighed and stood up, then crossed to Tim slowly enough that he’d have time to pull away if she freaked him out before she knelt down in front of him.

“But kitten, sweetheart,” she soothed, reaching out a hand and scooping up his chin so he would look her in the eye. He flinched. “Baby boy, your parents are wrong. You’re not a bother to anyone. I promise, you don’t take up too much space.”

Tim’s eyes watered and his face was all screwed up in confusion like he couldn’t understand that his parents were meant to actually meant to care about him and _take_ care of him. He leaned into the touch so far that he nearly fell over, but didn’t look away from her eyes.

“But kids get in the way, and they g-give their moms and dads bad reputations,” Tim mumbled. “No one wants to deal with a whiny brat.”

Rage so hot she felt cold swept over her, and Selina yanked Tim into a hug. Tim yelped and stiffened, but then absolutely melted into the hold. His arms twitched like he was _about_ to bring them around her, but then he flinched hard and pulled them back to himself with a scared whimper.

Selina pulled back and held Tim at an arm’s length. He made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Selina’s stomach flopped. 

“I’m so sorry; I shouldn’t have done that without permission,” she apologized.

Tim stared at her, startled like a baby deer in headlights. “I-I-”

His arms twitched up for just a second, like he wanted a hug, but then he yanked them down and turned away, and Selina realized that she had seen this before in another little black haired, blue eyed boy.

“Tim, when was the last time you were hugged?”

Tim bit his lip and shrugged. “I- I don’t know.”

Maybe Deathstroke would be willing to take them out for her. She could certainly pay him enough, but it was a question of whether or not Bruce would allow it and/or notice if she did it anyway. 

“May I hug you, kitten?” she asked, holding her arms out.

Tim stared at her hug for several seconds, then tentatively shuffled toward her until he was situated right between her arms. She didn’t hesitate before wrapping him all up in her arms and pulling him tight against her chest.

Tim gasped, then his breathing started to pick up, and in seconds, his body was wracked with full body sobs. Her heart wrenched at the sound of them; he sounded so heartbroken and confused. How dare his parents do that to him, strip him of any affection or care? 

Selina stood, taking him with her, and carried him over to Jack’s office chair. She sat down with him cradled against her chest so she could see a bit of his little face. The sense of déjà vu was disorienting. There was a warm little body pressed against her chest, tears against her collarbone, a boneless boy in her hold like he was trying to meld with her body so she wouldn’t stop touching him or leave him all alone again. Was she holding a homeless orphan in a dark alley a year ago, or was she holding an abandoned little boy in an office she’d half-ransacked in the present day? 

“Sweet kitten,” Selina murmured. “Your parents are _wrong_. _They_ are the bad ones, not you.” Tim made a small noise of protest, but she shushed him with a kiss to the forehead. “None of that, kitten. You might be good at taking care of yourself, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“But I don’t want to bother anyone,” Tim pleaded, and he turned those watery blue eyes on her. “If I don’t behave, Mom and Dad won’t come home anymore _at all_! Please, I don’t want them to go away! Please don’t make them mad at me!”

Tim’s voice broke off into sobs and Selina tutted again and tucked him underneath her chin. He was just a little boy who’d never known anything else, never known that the way his parents treated him was _evil_. He wasn’t going to be able to get that in just a few minutes. It would take time, and demonstrating _true_ love and _real_ family.

A line from _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ played in her head on repeat like a scratched disc.

I’ll fix it up there, then I’ll bring it back here.

She’d never just hand Tim over to the foster system. She’d suffered enough at its hands, and even though she and Bruce had been trying to dismantle the mobs and random drug dealers, there simply weren’t enough clean houses in Gotham willing to take in children to meet the demand and too many children being pulled out of bad situations. A rich boy like Tim would be a prime candidate for a ransom demand or trafficking in a misplaced impoverished rage against the Gotham upper class.

Besides, finders keepers. 

For now.

She could sneak him back to the house when his parents returned if she had to, and then take him back once they inevitably left again. Hopefully, though, by March, they’d have been able to show Tim how parents were supposed to treat their children, and he would have realized that he was now her son whether he liked it or not. 

“Okay, kitten,” she said at last. “I won’t make them mad.” Yet. _Later_ , she was giving no guarantees for. “But you can’t be here all by yourself.”

Tim started to protest, but his words were choked off by the tears in his throat and she ran a hand through his hair. His black hair. Just like hers, and Bruce’s, and Dick’s, and Jason’s. Heck, even Alfred had had black hair. Clearly, they were always meant to be.

“You can’t be alone,” she chided. “It’s Christmas.”

Tim sniffled pathetically. “It’s the twelfth of December.”

“Christmas begins with Thanksgiving, kitten,” Selina told him. What kind of parents didn’t even teach their kids when Christmas started? “You can’t be all by yourself for Christmas. You’re going to come with me.”

Tim went completely rigid, then slowly raised his eyes. “But I’ll be in the-”

“Don’t say you’ll be in the way, baby. You’re tiny, you can’t be in the way.” Selina pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love having children around, and so does Batman. Robin and my other son will also be _so_ happy to meet you, and Agent A is going to love you too.”

Tim made a soft mewling noise, then curled more tightly into her sighed and hesitantly laid a hand on hers. He glanced up quickly to check her reaction, but she smiled and took his hand in hers. 

“I love you, Tim. You’re safe now,” she said softly.

Tim gasped and stared at her in shock. She kissed his forehead again, then leaned back in the swiveling desk chair and rocked it as far as it would let her. He should be asleep; it was too late for babies to be awake, and he was clearly exhausted, but she’d need him to be awake for the ride back to Wayne Manor. They’d go in the morning, then, after he’d had a chance to rest, and make it back in time for Alfie’s breakfast. Tim must have had a bedroom around the house somewhere, and they could crash there for the night.

Selina started rubbing circle’s on Tim’s back and humming a tuneless song to him that eventually came around to one that she’d sung to Jason the night before. It took only minutes for Tim to fall asleep, but she didn’t get up right away. 

She laid her cheek against Tim’s head and smiled. “I’m stealing you, kitten. Merry Christmas.”

With that, she leaned back and let herself bask in the warmth and weight that was her new son. Bruce’s new son, whom he would accept willingly as soon as he found out about. Dick’s new little brother, Jason’s new little brother, Alfred’s new ~~grandson~~ Christmas present.

Maybe Alfred would be okay with her stealing his Christmas present after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Nobodythehope for the "note to cat" line. I shamelessly stole it from the comments section (with permission) because it was beautiful.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving! It's a bit weird to be publishing a Christmas themed story on Thanksgiving, but, y'know.


End file.
